


Tales in the Night

by Jaelijn



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Adventure, Campfires, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Episode Style, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, Story within a Story, Storytelling, some hints at, the story within the story anyway, though the story itself is set in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: Vila tells a story.





	Tales in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> In memory of Paul Darrow.
> 
> From [Issue #3](https://rebelsandfools.tumblr.com/post/186885179223/rebels-and-fools-issue-3) of [_Rebels and Fools_](https://rebelsandfools.tumblr.com/).

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,  
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;  
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,  
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1874), “Part Third, The Theologian's Tale, Elizabeth”, in _Tales of a Wayside Inn_

* * *

There was something to be said for visiting rebel camps, Vila thought. Yes, it put everyone on alert, because if the _Liberator _was seen, they weren’t just putting their own lives at risk, and sometimes the expectations and the hero worship – misplaced or otherwise – could be cloying. But it was also the only real opportunity they had to tell stories of their adventures. There wasn’t much point in telling them on the _Liberator_ where everyone had… well, been there. And Vila _liked _telling a good story.

Sometimes, like at this particular camp, there was even a campfire to tell the stories by.

Vila had already attracted a group of children with his magic tricks before Blake had excused himself for a final consultation with the rebel leaders before the morrow; now that there was a chance of a story, the group had swelled to an audience of respectable size. The audience also included one Kerr Avon, if only, Vila suspected, because the night was cold and the fire by far the warmest location in the camp. Perhaps also because a local domesticated animal that reminded Vila of Earth’s cats had not been scared off by Avon’s scowling, unlike the children. It had settled at Avon’s feet, on the fringe of the blanket Avon had wrapped around his shoulders.

Vila pulled his own blanket more firmly around himself and hid his smile of amusement in its folds. He had observed Avon with well-hidden fondness all through the magic show, in which Avon had stubbornly affected disinterest, and knew that at least some of Avon’s attention was on him, no matter how much Avon might pretend otherwise.

Vila never knew who the first child had been that had asked for a story, but he would always remember the young person who had exclaimed, over the general clamour: “Yes, tell us a story about Kerr Avon!”

Avon’s head came up at the sound of his name, and Vila was instantly intrigued.

“Tell a story about Avon, eh?” he mused, putting a companionable arm around the young non-binary rebel child who had asked.

“Yes!” The small head ducked shyly. “He’s my favourite.”

It had taken Vila a while to get over the fact that, to these people, they were almost fictional characters, the subject of bedtime stories. It intrigued him, the faultlessness and immortality that came with the role, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that none of them were living up to expectations, not even Blake. Now, determined not to brood, Vila let his grin grow broader and looked deliberately back at Avon, who was starting at him with dismay.

“Well, little enby,” Vila began expansively, patting the child on the shoulder, “I suppose I can do that.” He could hear the laughter swinging in his own voice. He hadn’t broken Avon’s gaze but was undaunted by the deepening scowl there. “Don’t worry, Avon,” Vila told him, almost feeling the young heads turn towards Avon’s solitary figure, “I’ll make it a good one.”

“Oh, will you?” Avon mumbled, breaking his gaze to stare back into the fire. He seemed disinclined to move.

Vila cleared his throat dramatically, catching the attention of his audience again. “Well, let me tell you of the one time we got to a planet where they hadn’t even heard of Blake.”

“I thought this story was about Avon!” came a faint protest from the crowd.

“Patience! We will get there!”

* * *

The planet looked dismal from orbit. If it hadn’t been a refugee colony, Vila would have asked what had possessed people to settle on it.

“What do you hope to gain down there, Blake?” Avon folded his arms. “These people have nothing, and we have nothing to offer them.”

“If we can just get a few planets behind us…” Blake repeated for the millionth time, his patience running thin.

“What planet? They could do nothing if the Federation chose to move in. You don’t even know whether they noticed _our_ arrival. And even if they have, you might as well just claim some uninhabited area of this rock and leave them to their own devices. Blake, the best these few people will be able to offer you are empty promises.”

Blake had already turned away, determined to ignore the objections.

“Or meaningless praise,” Avon added, under his breath. “This is a waste of time.”

“We are still going down. These people have been displaced by the Federation,” Blake said, to the room at large.

“They might need _our _help,” Cally added.

Avon ended his protest with a weary shrug and a contemptuous scowl. “Let’s not waste any _more _time, then.”

On the ground, the planet had, to Vila’s surprise, actually some beautiful qualities. There were striking, crystalline rock formations that refracted the light in fascinating patterns. By contrast, the vegetation consisted of low growing shrubberies, and the gravel underneath was razor-sharp. For once, Vila was glad to be wearing boots.

They had located the refugee camp by its energy emissions, though there had been no response to their attempts at contacting the inhabitants. Orac had estimated the camp’s technological level at _survival _– they had just enough to keep themselves alive, but if they had communication arrays that could reach the orbit, sensor grids or any noticeable computer power, the _Liberator _had picked up none of it. Thanks to the faint energy emissions, they had at least been able to teleport down close enough to avoid a very long walk.

The camp didn’t look like much, either. It was surrounded by a low stone wall, a collection of squatting emergency shelters. Avon had his weapon drawn, but he sighed at the sight and let it drop slightly off target. “What did I tell you, Blake?”

“Perhaps we can help them,” Blake repeated.

“Oh yes, perhaps, out of the goodness of our hearts. And I assume you plan to walk straight into their camp?”

If that _was _what Blake had been planning, he never got around to it – clearly, somehow, their arrival had been noticed, and a small group came out to meet them. A man and a woman hung back cautiously, but another, younger man hurried ahead. He came straight up to them, headless of the weapon Avon had brought back up to bear, and stopped in front of Avon with a wide grin on his face.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” he asked with pure elation in his voice.

It was rare enough to see both Avon and Blake speechless that Vila had to suppress a snicker.

“Excuse me?” Avon said finally.

“You are! It’s good to see you again, Dr Avon!”

Blake choked on the title. “_Doctor _Avon?”

Vila took another look at the fawning admiration in the young man’s eyes and Avon’s frozen expression and sighed. “Here we go again,” he mumbled, under his breath, then nudge Avon with his elbow. “Why does this always happen to you, eh? Couldn’t we go to a planet where they think _I_’m wonderful, for a change?”

Avon drew his gun back defensively, but before he could get a word in, the young man talked right over him: “You won’t remember me, of course. You taught my class for two years back at LDEU. Your work is an inspiration to us all.”

“Is it?” Avon muttered faintly.

“Look,” Blake interjected, leaving a pregnant pause where the young man’s name might have gone, “you clearly know who we are. Then you must also know that we have come to offer our assistance. Perhaps we could…”

“My name’s Ral, Dav Ral,” the young man finally said. He extended his hand to Avon, who ignored it, his grip on his gun tightening. “These must be your colleagues from the _Liberator_, Dr Avon,” Ral continued, undaunted. Perhaps, if he’d known Avon before, he was used to his forbidding attitude.

Avon finally holstered his gun, a sardonic smile playing about his lips. “Roj Blake, and Vila Restal,” he introduced.

“Welcome,” Ral said, with a courteous nod that was dismissive in its politeness. “Please, follow me into the settlement.”

The woman of the welcome committee met them halfway. “Is it him?” she asked, and when Ral nodded, her face, too, lit up. “You’re really _the _Dr Avon?” she said to Avon, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable at the attention. “The one who wrote _Comtemporary Challenges of AI_?”

“Yes,” Avon responded repressively.

“Brilliant! We don’t have much, but it will be an honour to have you as our guest – and your colleagues, of course.” She turned to lead the way with Ral, and Blake deliberately slowed his steps, leaving the three of them trailing behind their hosts. Vila was used to being ignored, but Blake had clearly bristled at the cavalier treatment.

“Avon, do you know these people?!”

Avon lifted his shoulders in an abortive shrug. “I think I remember Ral, now. My time at LDEU was long ago.”

“But _they_, clearly, know you.”

“They know my work. It’s not quite the same thing, Blake.”

“I wonder whether they have a prophecy about you, too,” Vila quipped and happily weathered Avon’s glare.

“Well, see if you can get some of them to talk to us,” Blake said. “Perhaps we can find out what they need, or whether they can help us, after all.”

To Blake’s chagrin and Vila’s amusement, however, the refugees showed very little interest in either of them once Ral had made a grand introduction of _Dr Avon_. It seemed the refugees were a motley group of computer scientist, hardware and software specialists and the odd engineer, and Ral, as the resident AI expert, had been singing Avon’s praises for years.

They had set up a rudimentary computer system, and though they had no communication or sensory equipment that reached orbit, they had a basic observatory where they had spotted the _Liberator_. They had nothing like an advanced AI, of course, but Avon was immediately invited to inspect the computers – and Vila could tell that he was interested, if only because they functioned without tarriel cells and Orac hadn’t been able to see the network at all. Meanwhile, Blake and Vila were given food and accommodation and then all but forgotten, while Avon was swept away by the scientists.

Blake had called in to the _Liberator_, to report on their situation, and then had dragged Vila along for a walk through the camp, trying to start up conversations with passers-by – and not having any more success with them than with the welcome committee, though the dismissals were unfailingly polite and friendly. It was simply that the scientists weren’t interested, especially not when there was a chance to meet a _real _expert. They were little more than Avon’s entourage. Vila felt a little as though he had stumbled into some bizarre scholastic enclave where the only thing that seemed to matter, beyond pure survival, was the pursuit of academic knowledge, and Avon had just become the teacher of the day.

When Blake gave up, Vila peeled away to watch Avon from the distance. He thought that even Avon was struggling with the situation. He looked uncomfortable with the crowds and the eager reception by so many people. None of them were used to that, anymore – not even by fellow rebels, who were always also too paranoid and on edge. And beyond that, scientific conversations on the _Liberator_ rarely had the shape of a pure pursuit of knowledge; even Vila could recognise that. Too often, knowledge and their survival were linked, and Avon had broken down the science to its basics – no doubt, Avon would have described it as dumbing it down for their, especially Vila’s, benefit. These refugees here had secured their survival and achieved some kind of stability. Though they did not live in luxury, they seemed happy spend the rest of their days doing science for science’s sake. They lapped up any scientific morsel of detail that Avon chose to share.

Once the queue of people who had wanted to shake Avon’s hand had slowed down, greetings exchanged to their satisfaction, Ral steered Avon away to look at the computers and Vila, bored, wandered back to Blake.

It was late in the evening and they were getting ready to spend the night before Avon returned to them. They had been given a small shelter, a converted storage room with three rudimentary beds, some food and drink, and a blanket each. Blake had hoped that once Avon would join them for the night, Avon might be able to share some information with them as to what the refugees _wanted_ – or whether the technology they had been toying with would be of any help to the _Liberator_.

“Perhaps they need supplies,” Blake was saying, fingering the thin blanket, when Avon walked through the door.

Avon looked… tired, but there was a satisfied shine to his eyes that Vila couldn’t remember seeing before. Avon stripped off his gun belt and dropped it onto the remaining bed, then sat down himself – rather abruptly, Vila thought.

“Did you find out anything?” Blake asked immediately.

A muscle jumped in Avon’s jaw. Vila wasn’t entirely sure whether he was suppressing a frown or a smile. “None of the kind of information you’re after, Blake,” Avon said. “Is there any water?”

Vila passed him the bottle. “Didn’t know you had a doctorate,” he remarked lightly.

“Legally I don’t, not anymore.” Avon accepted the water with a nod of thanks and drank before he continued, “All of my major publications were withdrawn from circulation and my titles declared void when I was exiled.”

“_Titles_?”

“Nothing spectacular, Vila – just a dual doctorate.”

“Computer science?”

“Yes, and a specialisation in AI.”

“Somehow,” Blake said slowly, “I hadn’t imagined you as an Academician.”

“Where do you imagine my reputation of expertise comes from? Hardware work in a security firm?” Avon’s tone was sharp, but a smile played about his lips. “Let it go, Blake. These people want nothing to do with the rebellion. All they ever wanted was to be left alone with their science.” Avon looked at the closed door that separated them from the rest of the camp for a moment. “They have that here,” he said, sounding almost wistful.

“What about their technology?”

“What about it? It’s impressive for what materials they have, but compared to the _Liberator_… We already have two of the most advanced computer systems in the known universe, Blake.”

“Well, isn’t there at least something we can do to make their lives more comfortable? This is hardly the lap of luxury.”

Avon rubbed the edge of his hand over his lips wearily. “Perhaps not, but frankly we shouldn’t linger. The last thing they want is to draw attention to themselves. The most recent news they have had comes from some later arrivals, Ral among them, and they are barely aware of your reputation, Blake. We’re putting them in danger just by being here.”

“And you care?” Vila put in, surprised.

Avon directed a vague glare at him, suddenly looking tired. “I don’t, one way or another, but all _we_ are doing here is wasting our time.”

“And collecting _meaningless praise_?” Blake asked pointedly.

Avon didn’t rise to the bait. He lay down on the bed. “I’m going to sleep. I promised Ral to do a little work on their computers tomorrow, and then we will leave. These people neither want nor need your interference.”

Only by the morning it was too late for non-interference.

Jenna’s call woke them, reporting a squadron of Federation ships en route to the planet. They hadn’t spotted the _Liberator_ – yet – but their flight trajectory unerringly pointed their way.

“Do they know about the refugees?” Vila asked.

“If they don’t, they will by the time they get into scanner range.” Blake frowned. “How long do we have, Jenna?”

“If we take _Liberator _to the blind side of the planet so they don’t spot us first, perhaps twelve hours until they are close enough to scan the planet.”

“How many people are here?” Blake asked, looking at Avon, “Can we evacuate them all in half a day?”

“Perhaps, if you could convince them of the need to evacuate. They won’t want to leave, Blake.”

“Why would anyone want to stay here?” Vila asked. He’d spent an uncomfortable night on the rough beds, shivering under the thin blanket when the heaters had been turned off for the night to conserve energy. The bathroom facilities had been a shock. The place was hardly better than a penal colony.

“As difficult as this may be to understand for you, Vila, they’re not after luxury. They just want to be left alone.”

“They won’t have a choice. The Federation will kill them all.” Blake’s expression hardened. “Hide _Liberator_, Jenna, but stay in teleport range for as long as you can. We’ll keep you updated.”

Jenna confirmed and signed off.

Blake dropped his arm with the bracelet and fixed his gaze on Avon. “_You_’ll have to convince them.”

A dark shutter came down over Avon’s expression. “No.”

“Avon, they’ll all die!”

“No. There is no reason to assume that the Federation know where the camp is.”

“So they’ll scan the planet until they find it, like we did,” Vila said.

“_Listen _to me,” Avon spat, rising angrily to his feet. “They have a rudimentary detector shield, Blake.”

“What!”

“It’s a camouflage more than anything, improvised like everything else around here, but it concealed the extent of their technology and their computer network from Orac.”

“But we still found them.”

“For now.”

“You want to try improving their detector shield,” Vila realised. “It’ll never work.”

Avon glared at him. “I have to try. Blake–”

Blake rose, too. “All right, try. Vila, help him – and see if you can get Ral to talk to me. We should prepare for an evacuation, all the same.”

Avon nodded and turned on his heels, hurrying out of the shelter in long strides. He’d left behind his gun. Vila snatched it up and then had to jog to catch Avon up. He nearly ran into him when Avon stopped at a hail: “Dr Avon!”

“I’ll never get used to _that_,” Vila mumbled as Avon turned towards the caller.

It was Ral. “Good morning!” he greeted, though his smile began to falter at Avon’s expression. “Is something the matter?”

“The Federation are coming, Ral,” Avon said, squaring his shoulders.

Ral’s expression darkened. “Following you?”

“Not this time. They are coming here.”

“We won’t run. Not again.”

Avon smiled grimly. “I rather thought you might say that. I’ll see what I can do with that detector shield of yours. Meanwhile, unless you plan to commit collective suicide, talk to Blake about an evacuation.”

Ral nodded unhappily. “You know the way, of course – but, Dr Avon, the shield…”

“Isn’t my field?” Avon’s lips twisted into a grimace that pretended to be a smile. “_Survival_ is. I warned you that things have changed. Now get out of my way and see that the rest stay away, too. I have work to do.”

Avon didn’t wait for Ral to leave – he simply sidestepped him and hurried on, Vila trailing in his wake. Avon slowed only when they approached a building Vila had seen him being shown into the day before. “Vila, have you your tools?”

“Always.”

“Good.”

The door wasn’t locked and the place seemed to be deserted. These were the improvised computer systems Avon had been talking about – they looked even more alien than the _Liberator_’s circuits, gobbled together from spare parts and repurposed crystals carved from the local rock.

“That’s a computer? It’s a mess!” Vila exclaimed, horrified.

“It’s _beautiful_,” Avon said, kneeling in front of a panel, “considering what they had to work with. But it’s a labour of love, made for neither efficiency nor survival.” He removed the protective covering, taking his own pouch of tools from his jacket. “Check the door. Did anyone follow us?”

Too used to doing what Avon instructed, Vila checked before wondering why. “There’s no one there. Why d’you ask?”

“Close the door and make sure it’s locked.”

Vila did as he was asked, uneasy. “Avon, what’s going on?”

Avon turned to him. “I let you jump to your own conclusions, earlier. There is no way to adjust this detector shield to fully hide the camp.”

“But–”

“There is a fully working detector shield on the _Liberator_.”

Vila spluttered. “But we need that!”

“It’s _my gadget_, as you so generously pointed out, and _I _chose to use it here.” Avon rose to his feet and stalked closer menacingly. “I need _you _to teleport up to the _Liberator _and get it.”

“But, Avon–”

“You know how to do it. You watched me connect it. Tell Jenna I require… a few parts from it. I’ll fix it after we’ve left. Any other protests?”

Vila shook his head, too afraid of the menace Avon was suddenly exuding to wonder why _Avon_, of all people, was prepared to risk _their_ – and _his own _– life to save a bunch of strangers. He shrank back until Avon broke eye contact, then brought the bracelet hastily to his lips. “Jenna, bring me up. I need to fetch some parts for Avon.”

By the time Vila returned, it was a few hours later and Avon had managed to isolate a connector lead to link up the detector shield to the camp’s systems.

“What kept you?!” he spat when Vila materialised, the shield cradled under his arm.

“It wasn’t easy disconnecting this, you know!”

“The Federation?”

“Holding course and speed. We’ve eight hours – four before we need to start evacuating if it doesn’t work.”

“Four hours,” Avon repeated, under his breath, and looked over at the bare connecting circuits.

“Can you do it?”

“I’ll have to.” Avon lifted the _Liberator_’s shield from Vila’s arms. “This will need adjusting before I connect it up. Give me a hand.”

They had to disconnect the shield twice, risking an overload of both systems because they hadn’t got the energy transfer ratio right – it was nonstandard, thanks to the use of local crystals – and by the time the clock crept up to four hours, Vila was nursing a few burned fingers and a headache. Avon was pressing fingers to his forehead as he ran another round of calculations on a pocket device. They couldn’t afford another mistake.

“Well?” Vila asked unhappily.

Avon dropped his hand. “I think this is it.”

“You said that last time!”

Avon managed a weak glare. “I _really _think it works, now. If it doesn’t, it won’t matter – we will have to evacuate.” He set down the calculator and picked up the circuit connector. “Ready?”

Vila sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Here we go.” Avon closed the connection.

There was no shower of sparks, this time.

Avon gingerly let go of the connecting cable. “Anything?”

“No overload showing on this.” Vila lifted his scanning device a little.

“Good.”

“You think it works?”

“Only one way to find out.” With a delicate probe, Avon activated the shield. Then, encouraged by the lack of electrical shock, he lifted his bracelet. “Jenna?”

“Avon! The settlement just vanished from the scanners! What’s going on?!”

Vila broke out into a grin. “It works!”

Avon was clearly too tired to suppress his own answering smile. “The camp is hidden under a detector shield. Call Blake, and tell him to call off the evacuation. No one will find these people now. The Federation won’t bother to search an apparently empty planet on foot.”

* * *

“So that’s why you’re here looking for parts? Because Avon gave the detector shield to those scientists?” one of the children asked.

Vila smiled, his gaze drifting over to Avon. Avon was watching him, but his expression was indiscernible in the flickering light of the dying campfire. “Yes,” Vila said, “that was the reason. But you have to keep it to yourself, all right?” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Only Avon and I know that we took the whole shield down. The rest think we only need to replace a few parts.”

The crowd of small heads nodded eagerly, hanging on Vila’s lips.

“So there you have it, the story of how Avon saved a whole camp of refugee scientists who only ever wanted to be left alone.” Vila rose from his box to give a little mock bow. “Now go home and get some sleep. It’s late and the fire’s almost gone.”

There was some grumbling, but all in all the children slipped away happily, satisfied with the story and too tired to give much of a protest. The exodus stirred the animal by Avon’s feet, and it, too, slinked away into the night.

Vila stretched luxuriously and went over to sit next to Avon. “Well?”

Avon arched an eyebrow at him. “What do you want to hear?”

“Promised I’d make it a good one, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Avon broke eye contact to look at the dying embers of the fire. “I don’t remember this story, Vila,” he said softly.

“Doesn’t have to be _true_ to be _good_, does it? The most immortal stories only have a little bit of truth.”

“Like the fact that the detector shield has broken down?” Avon asked archly.

_Like the fact that you’d have done it to save those people_, Vila thought but didn’t say. “Yeah, like that.”

Avon made a soft sound, and after a moment Vila realised that it was a chuckle. He’d done good, then. Satisfied, Vila grinned at the other man. “Are we going to bed, too?”

“Yes, I suppose we should. Who knows what Blake has planned for tomorrow.” Avon rose to his feet and offered Vila a hand up. “I’m flattered, you know, though you really needn’t have invented a tribe of scientists.”

Vila let himself be pulled to his feet. “Eh? Flattered?”

“_Contemporary Challenges of AI_,” Avon said, “doesn’t make for easy reading. I’m impressed.” He let go of Vila’s hand with a smile, turned, and walked away into the night. 


End file.
